


A Walk In The Garden

by TheManLeftStanding



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Goat Mom Is Best Mom, Goat Mom Is Sad, Undertale Pacifist Route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-13 22:33:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11194812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheManLeftStanding/pseuds/TheManLeftStanding
Summary: The same routine and the same flowers can begin to wear on one, after so long, especially with so few to choose from. Perhaps it is time to plant something new.





	A Walk In The Garden

The smell of a smoldering fire awoke Toriel from her sleep. She stretched slowly as she woke, groggily scanning the room. Her tea sat cold and half empty on the end table, her book on snails open upon her lap, her glasses crooked on the end of her nose.

“Oh dear. I must have fallen asleep whilst reading again,” she said as she straightened her glasses and closed her book. She sighed as she stood, glancing to the fire place, only ash and scant cinders left over from the night’s fire.

The sight reminded her of something an old friend used to say: “Even when scattered into embers, a soul can still reignite.” Toriel stared at the faint, dull-orange glow of the fireplace, reminiscing over the old coot’s words. She doused what remained of the fire with her tea and slid her book back into its place on the shelf. Toriel made her way to her room, inspecting her home along the way. Apart from a few isolated paintings and a mirror she refused to look at, the walls were bare, with no pictures or drawings to speak of. The house bore a lonesome appearance, however Toriel felt that was how it should be. This was a home that could house a family, and once did, but now only held one. The lone guardian of the ruins.

Toriel’s room, too, was lonesome. Dust built upon shelves and books and the bedsheets, her desk being the only used space in the room. In recent years, Toriel had come to find her reading chair more appealing. Like her bed, it was more than comfortable enough. Unlike her bed, it was not surrounded by mementos from a time she would never reclaim. She looked to the clock. “Oh goodness, I am running late!” she said, rushing out of her bedroom, knocking over a backwards picture frame as she grabbed a book and pencil from her desk. She ignored the mess she had made as she rushed down the hall and down the stairs to her basement. Toriel was greeted by a vacant, drafty tunnel. “I hope he has not been waiting long,” she mumbled. Toriel rushed down the tunnel and took the turn at the end, bringing her to a large stone door, engraved with the same rune as on her robes. She knocked three times and waited for a response.

Silence. She knocked again; silence still.

“Oh. Perhaps he already left,” she said.

“who’s there?” came a voice from the other side of the door.

She jumped at the sound, but was relieved and composed herself. “Bean,” she replied.

“bean who?”

“Bean a while, has it not?” Toriel finished with a big smile. The voice on the other side of the door erupted into a fit of chuckles.

“nice one, lady.”

“Thank you. I was proud of myself for writing that one. I am very glad you like it,” Toriel said with a warm smile. “I am sorry I am late. You must be cold.” She took a seat against the door.

“no worries, I was just _chilling_ ,” the voice said, accompanied by a trumpet snare.

Toriel laughed. “You truly have earned the title of pun-master,” she said, smile still on her face.

“what can I say, I have a great audience.”

“Why, thank you. Now, I have another one for you.”

“lay it on me, breadslice.”

 

The two went back and forth for hours. Talking, telling jokes, and exchanging a headache’s worth of puns. Strangers yet friends, sharing warm laughs through cold stone. Old Queen Toriel and the mysterious voice on the other side of the door.

“I do so enjoy these get togethers,” Toriel said.

“me too. you’re good company.”

“I am sad to say that I must be going now, however. I must tend to my garden,” she said, heart sinking.

“ah, no worries, can’t expect ya to goof around with me all day.”

“I will be certain to have more jokes for you tomorrow,” she said, standing and brushing herself off.

“sounds great. i’ll be nappin’ here if ya need me.”

“In the cold?”

“yeah. good thing i’m already a _numbskull_.”

Toriel snickered. “Very well, but do try not to catch a cold.”

“i won’t. Take care now.”

“I will. Have a pleasant rest,” she said as she made her way back. With every step taken away from the door, the more a wave of sadness and loneliness began to loom over her. She wished she could stay with her friend and be happy forever. She wished even more to be able to leave the ruins. To leave the underground. This made her even more sad when she realized it would never happen. “Not that it matters,” she muttered as she climbed the stairs. “I have a job to do anyways…”

Toriel walked through the quiet, empty house, eyes downcast as she went. She opened the door to her room and stepped in, taking in how plain it was. She placed her book back on her desk, noticing the toppled picture frame as she did so. She picked it up, the back of it reading, _“We love you mom! – A.D. + C.D. + A.D.”_ She froze as she read the text, scrawled in cheery rainbow colors. She didn’t want to turn the frame over. She stared, lost in a sort of trance, as if she had come face to face with a terrible, incomprehensible beast. In a way, she had. Toriel’s muscles were getting sore from tensing. She took a deep, shaky breath and turned the picture over. The picture of her and her family. Her two children, her husband, and herself. Tears welled in her eyes as the past washed over her like a tidal wave, threatening to sweep her away. She gave in, clutching the picture to her chest and slumping into the chair, sobbing softly. “I am sorry…”

Toriel, growing tired of being in such a sad state, decided it was time to leave. She stood and slid open the top drawer of her desk, depositing the picture inside. Face down and covered by random papers. She wiped her eyes and left the dark room. She grabbed her watering can and left her house and the memories within behind. She passed by the old tree, the bridge, the traps, and the many Froggits who were too afraid to approach. Toriel walked the same path every day. After all the years spent in the ruins, she found little joy in diverting from routine. The path was padded down smooth from countless trips of light tread, yet heavy burden. Back in the day, it was free to twist and turn, overgrown with vibrant flora. But now, it was a brown and grey dusty trail cutting straight through, unchanging in the face of time. Much like its lone traveller.

Toriel stopped to fill her watering can in the nearby stream before continuing on. As she neared her destination, she felt something strange. New, yet familiar. “What is that?” she said as her ears perked, hearing voices down the hall. She peeked her head around the corner to see a flower talking to a strange figure.

“Is that…” she said, dropping her watering can. “A human. I— I…” she stammered, getting interrupted by a loud noise.

“You _idiot!_ In this world, it’s _kill_ or _be killed!_ ” the flower screeched at the child, now knocked to the ground, badly wounded. At this sight, something shifted within Toriel. She pulled up her sleeves and marched forth, white flames licking at her palms, flaring out between her fingers. Her aim had not grown rusty, despite the years; her fireball struck the flower right on its twisted smile, sending it flying into the wall.

“What a terrible creature, torturing such a poor, innocent youth… ah, do not be afraid, my child,” Toriel said as she knelt down. “Here, let me see…” she took the child’s hand, healing the bruises and scrapes. “I am Toriel, caretaker of the ruins,” she introduced herself. The child simply smiled at her. Their lack of fear made her quite happy. “I pass through this place every day to see if anyone has fallen down,” she explained as she examined the child further. “You are the first human to come here in a long time.”

“Well,” she said, “It is not safe here for a human. Come! I will guide you through the catacombs.” She helped the child to their feet. The two made their way down the path. As they did, the child tugged at Toriel’s sleeve.

“Oh? Do… Do you wish to hold my hand, child?” Toriel asked tentatively.

The child said nothing, but nodded.

“I would be happy to,” she said, taking their hand. She guided the child through the ruins, protecting them from harm, be it monster or puzzle. She taught them of the ways of monsters and how to handle them peacefully. The child was remarkably kind, befriending all who attacked them. They passed each of the ruin’s challenges with ease. Toriel was proud, and wished for some way to reward them. _“But with what?”_ she thought. _“Oh! I know! I will bake them a pie.”_

Toriel kneeled down next to the child. “I must go ahead, now. I would like for you to remain here, can you do this for me?” she asked. The child nodded.

“That is good.” She smiled. “Oh, here, take these:” she said, holding out an old phone, a small box of crayons, and some paper. The child happily took then, immediately beginning to doodle. “I should be back soon, my child. Stay safe,” she said as she stood. She felt glad that she stayed prepared for situations such as this.

She hurried home, not wanting to leave them on their own for long. It had been ages since Toriel had someone to care for; she already had so much planned for them. Activities, lessons, meal plans. Toriel had only spent under an hour with them, but she felt a connection already. However, her excitement was tainted by an all too familiar dread that slowed her pace. The fear of loss grabbed hold of her and threatened to drag her into a panic as her past rushed back in full force. Toriel began to feel sick at the idea of losing another. “W…What is wrong with me?” she asked herself, falling to her knees. “It is only going to happen again, just as before.” Her eyes began to mist up. But before her fear could take full control, her phone rang. She composed herself and answered the phone. “Hello?”

It was the child.

“Oh, little one. Are you in trouble?”

They were fine, but they had a question to ask.

“What is it?” she asked. Their question caught her by surprise.

“Did you just call me… ‘Mom’? Well… I suppose… would that make you happy?”

The child didn’t hesitate to say yes.

“That would make me happy, as well. You may call me ‘mom’ if you please,” she said, dread melting away. The child hung up, and she stood.

“...Not this time. This time will be different. I am not certain how, but I know it will be. I can feel it,” she said to herself. Toriel didn’t know _what_ was different, but the child granted her a strength she hadn’t felt in a very long time. She marched off to home as quickly as she could.

Toriel arrived back at home and rushed to her kitchen, getting out everything she’d need to bake. Toriel was renowned for her pies—at least, she used to be. This child, however, had never tried one of hers.

“What if they dislike cinnamon…? Oh! I shall call and ask them,” she said, pulling out her phone. She waited patiently as it rang.

The child answered, cheerily greeting her.

“For no reason in particular… which do you prefer, cinnamon or butterscotch?”

They answered butterscotch.

“Oh. But you would not turn your nose up at it if you found it on your plate?”

They said no.

“Oh, good. Thank you, my child. Be safe, I will return soon.

The child told Toriel they had a drawing for her.

“Oh, how nice! I cannot wait to see it. Goodbye for now, little one,” she said, returning to the task at hand. It did not take Toriel long, thanks to her magic and pie-making prowess.

“Ah. Perfect!” she said, dusting flour off her robe. Toriel admired her handiwork; It might have been her best pie yet. Its smell alone can calm the fiercest of beasts.

“Well, best not to keep them waiting,” she said, finishing the cleaning up and making her way out the door and back to the child, now no longer coloring; they appeared to be admiring their own work, instead.

“I have returned, my child. I trust are you well?” Toriel asked as she knelt down to their level.

The human gathered up the crayons and drawings and handed them to her. “My, these are very good! Thank you, little one,” she said, smiling warmly and patting them on the head. “Come, let us head home.”

The child took her hand again. It was so small, in hers. In fact, the human was very, very small—smaller than any human she had ever seen. They barely came up to her knees. Still, they appeared to be taking the whole monster thing very well, she noted as they skipped about. Though their actions so far said otherwise, Toriel worried how they would handle the ruins ahead of them. She decided to quiz them on their monster-handling skills. As the dummy came into view, she released the child’s hand. “How about we practice your people skills?” she asked with a smile, gesturing to the dummy.

The child nodded and moved towards the dummy, starting to size it up. They asked its name, they told it a joke. They even, to Toriel’s embarrassment, flirted with it. It did not seem amused with their antics, and floated away as the human turned to her with a wide, proud smile on their face.

Toriel blinked, dumbfounded. “You are… a funny child,” she said. The child kicked around the pile of leaves, now vacant. “Well, let us get going. My house is just up this way.” Once again, the child took her hand. They made quite an odd pair—who would ever imagine a boss monster and a human traipsing around the ruins together?

They made it back to Toriel’s home in peace. “Here we are. It may not look like much, but it is home, and it is safe. Not to mention warm! The ruins can get so terribly drafty.”

The child seemed in awe of the cozy homestead amidst the old ruins. The pair entered the house and, for once, Toriel didn’t have the dread of spending another night alone looming over her. Toriel showed the child around before preparing dinner. They were quite hungry, although that was to be expected, after such a busy day. Afterwards, she led them down the hall, stopping in front of a door that she rarely opened.

“And this is your room, my child. You must be tired; do you wish to rest?” she asked.

The child clutched at her robe tightly and hid behind her.

“What is it, little one?” she asked gently, kneeling down. The human told her that they were afraid of being alone.

“Oh. Oh, dear…” she said, feeling guilty for leaving them on their own for so long. “How about I read you a story until you fall asleep? Would that make you feel better?”

They nodded slowly.

Toriel smiled. “Shall we?” she asked, guiding them to their bed and tucking them in. “How about I tell you an old monster prophecy?” she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. “It is much more exciting than it may sound, I promise.”

The child nodded excitedly. Toriel began to tell them of the prophecy of the angel, who would descend upon the underground and set free all of monsterkind, reuniting them with humanity. The child paid close attention, completely entranced by the tale. Toriel continued until they had fallen softly asleep. She quietly left the room, returning soon after with a slice of the pie she had baked for them.

Toriel looked through all the drawings the child had made, seeing many colorful landscapes, filled with odd yet creative shapes. One drawing in particular caught her attention; it was of her and the child, labeled “Me” and “Mom” accordingly. That word, Mom, it no longer stung at Toriel, but instead filled her with warmth. She pinned the drawing to the fridge, taking a minute to admire it. Toriel yawned, the day having taken its toll on her. “I had best get to bed. I… we, have another busy day tomorrow,” she mused as she made her way to her bedroom. She placed the rest of the drawings on her desk before climbing into bed.

She was not haunted by her usual thoughts when she tried to sleep. And, before she knew it, she had drifted off into a pleasant dream.

 

Toriel awoke the next morning, blinking lazily. “Hmm… why am I…?” she pondered sluggishly. “Oh! The child, of course, how could I forget?” She slid out of bed and tiptoed her way to the kitchen, not wanting to wake them. She brewed herself a cup of tea, fetched her favorite snail book and reading glasses, and took a seat in her chair. A few minutes passed before the child wandered into the living room.

“Good morning, my child. I trust you slept well?” she asked. The human nodded. “I am pleased to hear. There is a slice of pie for you in the kitchen,” she said, pointing over her shoulder. “It should fill you up. I have a big day planned for you!” she said, smiling.

The child slowly dawdled into the kitchen, returning to the table with their slice of pie. They picked listlessly at it while Toriel read before they began to wander aimlessly around the house.

Toriel couldn’t help but notice that they seemed unhappy. They tugged on her sleeve.

“Oh? Did you want to hear about the book I am reading? It is called ’72 uses for snails’. How about it?” she asked with a tentative smile.

The child nodded and asked her how to leave the ruins. All at once, that dread came back to her, hitting her like a brick.

“Um… how about an exciting snail fact? Did you know that snails... sometimes flip their digestive systems as they mature? Interesting,” she explained in a panic, desperate to change the subject.

They asked her how to leave again.

Toriel froze, terror threatening to overwhelm her yet again. She decided that there was only one thing to do. “I have something I must do. Stay here,” she said as she rushed to the basement.

 

“Please be there, please oh please—“ she pleaded as she ran to the stone door, knocking as hard as she could.

Silence.

“No. No, please…” she knocked again.

Nothing.

“No.”

“oh, hey,” the voice answered, “sorry about that. musta dozed off.”

“Oh, thank goodness you are here.”

“somethin’ up?”

“Yes, but do not worry. I am fine. I need to ask a favor of you. A promise.”

“well, uh, i’m not fond of promises.”

“Please. I beg you.”

“…geez, lady, you’re tuggin’ at my heartstrings, here… alright. whaddaya need?”

“If a human is to ever come through this door… could… could I ask you to look after them? To keep them safe?”

There was a long pause before the voice answered again. “…yeah. i promise.”

“Thank you very, very much, my friend.”

“heh… no worries, lady, least I can do for such a wonderful audience.”

Toriel chuckled. “You have no idea how much this means to me,” she said through a sigh.

“you, uh, must really care about this human.”

“More than you could ever imagine,” she said. “I must go now. I have no jokes today, I am sorry.”

“it’s aight. some other time, breadslice.”

Hearing footsteps from above, Toriel made her way back down the hall. The child stood in front of her with a worried expression.

“You wish to know how to return ‘home’, do you not?” she asked, receiving no answer. “Ahead of us lies the door to the rest of the underground. I am going to destroy it. No one will ever be able to leave again. Now be a good child and go upstairs,” she finished, moving towards the door.

The child followed.

“Every human that falls down here meets the same fate. I have seen it again and again. they come. They leave. They die. You naïve child… if you leave… they… Asgore… will kill you.” She blinked the tears out of her eyes. “I am only protecting you, do you understand?”

They stepped towards her.

“Go to your room.”

Another step.

“Do not try to stop me.”

Another.

“This is your final warning.

Another.

“You want to leave so badly? Hmph. You are just like the others.”

They stopped dead in their tracks.

“There is only one solution to this. Prove yourself,” she said, turning to face the child, welts of fire burning in her palms. “Prove to me you are strong enough to survive.”

She launched a barrage of fireballs towards them, tears overtaking her. The child dodged every wavering attack, insisting that they did not want to fight.

Another barrage, more aggressive. Again, the child told her that they did not wish to fight. She continued to attack, to try and drive the human away, but their pleads began to wear on her. Her attacks grew weaker, less precise, until they were little more than meager embers flicking at the walls.

“Ha… pathetic, is it not? I cannot save even a single child…” her barrage stopped entirely as she fell to her knees.

Tensely, the child approached and wrapped their arms around her. She hugged them back.

“No. I understand. You would only be unhappy trapped down here.” The child held on tighter. “It is okay, little one,” she said, ruffling their hair. “This world, it is big and scary. But it is also full of so many wonderful things and people. I would hate to keep you from them,” she said, releasing them. “Come, my child.”

They took her hand and followed her to the door. It swung open to reveal a forested coated with snow.

“You are going to do great things, I know you are,” she said with a gentle smile. “Be good, alright?”

The child nodded, making their way into the forest. Toriel watched, for a time, before she tired of the cold. She returned to the tunnel, doors closing behind her. She did not feel afraid for the child, instead, she felt happy. Though they were gone, she had a feeling that they would meet again. Toriel felt full of hope, like her dreams could finally come true. She felt determined.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
